


Father and Son

by flashytonystark



Series: One Word Prompts - MCU [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Aunt Peggy Carter, Awesome Peggy Carter, Fluff, Gen, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Howard Stark's Good Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, Kid Fic, Kid Tony Stark, One Word Prompt Meme, One Word Prompts, Other, Peggy puts Howard in his place, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Loves His Aunt Peggy, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 20:01:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18146792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashytonystark/pseuds/flashytonystark
Summary: "You know how smart Tony is, he’s just like you, he’s a genius in the making. But he’s also a child, Howard. One who idolizes you and wants to make you proud."





	Father and Son

**Author's Note:**

> prompt fill: puddles

Tony has gotten into trouble three times already and it’s not even lunch time. 

In his defense, it’s hard when you’re seven years old and forced to sit in your dad’s office with the very strict instructions of  _don’t touch a single thing_ while there’s  _so_ many cool things to touch. Tony wants to explore every last bit of his father’s office, wants to pull things from the shelves and take them apart just to see how they work. 

At least when he’s dragged along to the new SHIELD headquarters, he’s usually with his mother and she  _always_ has something fun for him to take apart. Usually it’s old pieces of equipment that no longer functions correctly or is too outdated to use, but Tony doesn’t care because taking things apart is  _way_ more fun than the coloring book and crayons his father thinks will keep him entertained. 

It’s not that Howard doesn’t think Tony knows what he’s doing whenever he finds something to investigate—it’s quite the opposite, actually, but Howard knows his son; Tony may be a very intelligent child, but he’s also still only seven years old. He always gets way too excited about whatever it is that he’s working on and it usually ends in a disaster (just ask Jarvis about the mess he was forced to clean up in Howard’s office last weekend.) Howard knows Tony is a genius in the making, even recognizes that fact when his son shows off some robot made out of old 8-Track players and VCR parts, but Howard doesn’t have time to entertain his son and keep a very strict watch over him today—he has far too many meetings and still needs to coordinate with his head of Tech and Weapons over at Stark before the end of the day. 

Tony misses his mom and would much rather be spending the day with her, but Maria is in Washington DC for the weekend, so he’s stuck sitting at the small table next to the big window in his father’s SHIELD office, a half-colored page and a few broken crayons strewn in front of him. 

He can’t even go outside and play because of the rain that is currently drenching New York City and to seven-year-old Tony Stark, this just about qualifies for the end of the world. He slumps over at the table, his little legs dangling down from his chair, feet not even brushing the floor. He wants to do something,  _anything_ , besides color, and he looks at his father’s desk, getting an idea. 

Sliding down from his chair, Tony quickly and quietly hurries over to his father’s desk and pulls out the rolling desk chair and climbs up into it, making sure he is situated properly before grabbing onto the edge of the desk and pulling himself forward. He looks in awe down at the contents on his father’s desk; there are scrap pieces of paper that have scribbled notes and numbers on them, stacks of manila folders that have big, red CLASSIFIED letters stamped across them. There are blueprints on his desk too, and Tony knows they’re things his father has designed himself because he recognizes the company logo in the bottom left-hand corner. 

Howard’s desk is always like this and it reminds Tony of how the workshop usually looks—cluttered, but with everything having its own place. He’s a lot like his father in that regard, even if he doesn’t realize it yet—neither of them are very tidy and the mess of papers and paperclips and half-drank cups of old coffee is unmistakably a trait of Howard’s.  

Tony eases himself onto his knees, the chair moving only slightly as he does so, and leans over the desk to get a better view of the blueprints in front of him. He’s not entirely sure what he’s looking at, but it reminds him of a gun, though this one is much bigger than the ones his mom and dad and Aunt Peggy wear on their hips every day which are  _not_ toys. 

But this isn’t a real gun, just an idea for a new one, and Tony’s imagination is already running wild with ideas and possibilities. He reaches forward toward his father’s pen and pencil cup—one Tony made and decorated himself as a Father’s Day gift for Howard just last year—and barely grabs onto a red sharpie. 

Settling back into the chair, Tony hunches over a piece of paper that looks innocent enough to draw on and starts to sketch his ideas out, his tongue poking from between his lips as he concentrates on what he’s doing. He catches a glimpse of a magazine next to him, (it has a fancy red car on the cover), and he temporarily abandons his own project to flip through the pages and look at the cars and various parts. 

Tony is enamored by what he’s seeing and he decides that he needs to incorporate a car into his design. He’s not entirely sure what it is that he’s trying to create, but that doesn’t matter. He’s watched Howard hundreds of times to know that sometimes creating and inventing is just making things up as you go along and seeing what works. 

God, he loves his father so much, wants to be just like him one day. It’s why he follows Howard around so often, always underfoot and oftentimes in the way. Tony can’t help it though; he’s trying to learn as much as he can about inventing and science and math and everything else his father knows and does. 

He’s gone back to his drawing, making large sweeping red lines across the page. Tony is excited now, watching his ideas materialize on the paper in front of him, and he can’t wait to show his father as soon as he comes back from his meeting. He decides he’s going to show it to him just as soon as they leave for lunch and then take it home with him and hang it on the refrigerator amongst his many others, that way his mother can see it as soon as she gets home on Sunday.  

Maria keeps everything Tony makes and draws, always encouraging her son to keep creating. He reminds her so much of Howard and her heart aches with how much she loves her brown-eyed boy who is the sweetest, kindest, funniest person she knows. He’s going to grow up to do great things one day, she can feel it in her bones. 

Tony is so engrossed in his drawings that he doesn’t even hear the sound of footsteps nearing the office door, nor the familiar voices of his father and Aunt Peggy as they pause to talk outside. He’s startled when the door opens and he looks up at his father, guilt written all over his face because he _knows_ he’s not supposed to be at his father’s desk. 

 _“This stuff is important, Tony. I don’t need you messing things up—stay at the small table by the window if you want to draw or color. Just not at my desk.”_  

Sheepishly, Tony picks up the piece of paper he’d been drawing on and turns it around for Howard and Peggy to see, but as he does so, he realizes the marker he was using has bled through the paper and onto the blueprints he’d been drawing on top of. 

“I’m sorry,” he squeaks out before either of the adults can ask what he’s doing. He shifts in the chair and can feel his bottom lip start to tremble as Howard nears the desk, his expression hard as he sees the now-ruined blueprints. 

“Damnit, Tony!” He barks, tossing down a stack of papers on the corner of his desk. Tony knows he’s in trouble now, probably won’t be allowed to go in the workshop with his father all weekend.  

 _“I’m sorry, Daddy! It was an accident,”_ he wants to say. He wants to get up and wrap himself around his father’s legs and hold on tight, making him see that he didn’t mean anything by it. If he could take it back, he would. He would’ve used a pen or a pencil or stayed at the table like he was told.  

“How many times do I have to tell you not to mess with the things on my desk? You’ve ruined perfectly good—.” 

“Howard,” Peggy says, cutting him off, her voice loud and sharp. She looks at him, staring him down for a moment, and turns to Tony, her hand outstretched. “Come here, Tony. And bring your picture.” 

Tears have started to silently spill down Tony’s cheeks and he pushes back in the chair to get down, the picture clutched tightly to his chest as he walks around the desk to take his Aunt Peggy’s hand. Her hands are always so nice and warm and it reminds Tony of his mom. He squeezes his eyes shut and nearly attaches himself to Peggy’s leg as she looks down at him, a sad smile on her face. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart, we know it was just an accident,” she tells him as she crouches down so she can be eye-level with him. “Take you picture and go to my office, okay? I’ll be there in just a minute.” 

Peggy brings her hands to Tony’s cheeks and wipes at his tears before sending him off through the door. She pokes her head out and watches as he walks down the hallway, only turning to face Howard once she sees Tony go into her office. 

“Howard,” she states again, going over to the blueprints on the desk. “There was absolutely no reason for that.” 

He gapes at her, gesturing wildly at the mess in front of them. “No reason?! Peggy, the boy doesn’t listen! He knows better and yet he still doesn’t listen! I left him for a half hour with some crayons and he manages to ruin important work with a sharpie!” 

“It was an  _accident._ It wasn’t like he did it on purpose. Have you ever thought that maybe crayons aren’t enough to keep him entertained? You know how smart  Tony  is, he’s just like you, he’s a genius in the making. But he’s also a  _child_ , Howard. One who idolizes you and wants to make you proud. He needs guidance, not to be yelled at over some blueprints. He’s used to sitting at our desks and drawing when he’s not tearing apart some old AV equipment.  

“I’ve seen you sit him on your lap while you work, watched you show him blueprints and sketches and explain to him Newton’s Three Laws and how airplanes are able to fly. He is a seven-year-old boy who  _loves_ you and wants to make you proud.” 

Howard makes a face at her and she scoffs, gathering up the sharpie-marked blueprints. “I have a copy of these in my office, I’ll send them down to you.” 

Peggy leaves Howard still fuming and he sits down hard in his chair. His ego is bruised, badly, after getting put in place like that. But he’s known Peggy long enough to know she doesn’t mince words and she’s fiercely protective of her godson. She’s a lot like Maria in that regard and the thought of his wife makes him sigh. She’s so much better at handling Tony than he is; he’s good at handling the intelligence part of his son, but everything else, he tends to stumble through. 

It’s often a struggle to find that balance between tough-love and forgiveness, of picking his battles and keeping his temper in check. He knows he overreacted and that Peggy is right, but that doesn’t mean he wants to admit it.  

* * *

“Aunt Peggy, where’s your boots?” Tony asks, kicking the rubber soles of his rain boots together, smiling each time they connect and make the weird rubbery sound. 

Tony has stayed with his Aunt Peggy all afternoon. She let him punch the numbers on her phone every time she had to make a phone call and she even gave him an old keyboard to tear apart. 

He’s torn half a dozen apart already, but he’s still thankful because it gives him something to do with his hands and calm his racing brain. He’s only seven, but Tony knows he’s different, that his brain works differently when compared to kids his age. His mom says it’s because he’s so much like his dad and that always makes Tony smile. 

“My boots are by my coat. Can you bring them to me?” Peggy asks, pointing at the coatrack in the far corner. 

Tony eagerly retrieves her boots and carries them over to her, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he watches her trade her sensible dress shoes for her rain boots. 

As they walk by Howard’s office, he catches Tony thank Peggy again for the ice cream she bought him at lunch and he wants to be mad at her for that, but he can’t, so he decides for once to let it go. 

 _Pick your battles._ That’s what his wife always tells him, anyway.  

By the time he finishes his call with his Tech and Weapons Coordinator, Howard is stiff from sitting for so long. As he stands to stretch, he realizes that the rain has stopped and the sun has even managed to make a brief appearance through the clouds. Walking toward the window, Howard glances down to the parking lot and sees Peggy and Tony below, surprised they’re still out there. He’s too high up to hear anything, but he can see the unmistakable smile on his son’s face as he splashed through puddles. 

Peggy chases after him and Howard watches as she purposely stops before a puddle before jumping in as hard as she can, soaking the bottoms of her pants and sending his son running, his head thrown back in a laugh.  

Sometimes he forgets just how young Tony is, forgets that he’s only a child who is under a lot of pressure and not because he wants to be. He’s been like this since the age of three, the first time he and Maria noticed just how advanced he was for his age. It came as no surprise to either of them, but now they had the responsibility of raising and protecting their child and the future heir to Howard’s company. 

But for now, Howard thinks, Tony can be a normal kid. There’s still another two hours and fifteen minutes left in the work day, but he doesn’t care. He’s decided to take Tony home, to let him wander and do whatever it is that a seven-year-old likes to do. 

Gathering his briefcase, Howard tosses his jacket over his arm and takes the stairs, walking out into the parking lot where he greets two of his favorite people with a smile. 

“Dad! Look!” Tony yells right before he jumps into a large puddle, dirty water splashing up around him. 

The events of that morning are long forgotten and as much as Howard doesn’t want to bring it up, he knows he has to. 

“Very cool, Tony. Come here for a second?” 

Peggy looks up and gives Howard a look, one that says she’ll kill him if he makes Tony cry, and he shakes his head, kneeling down in front of his son. 

“I wanted to say… I’m sorry for losing my temper earlier today. I know the marker was an accident and I shouldn’t have yelled.” 

Tony’s face falls and Howard immediately regrets what he’s just said because he can  _feel_ Peggy shooting daggers at him, but Tony eventually smiles and wraps his arms tight around Howard’s neck.  

“I’m sorry I ruined your stuff,” he says, his breath moving Howard’s hair just a bit as he holds him close. 

“I know you are, I forgive you. Can you forgive me?” 

Tony pulls back to look at his father and beams, dropping his arms from around his neck. “Yeah, I forgive you.” 

Howard’s chest suddenly feels tight and he stands abruptly, blinking. Tony is there, tugging on his hand, and he looks down with a brow raised. 

“Daddy, don’t you have to work?” 

“I’m done working for the day, kiddo. I figured we could have an early start to the weekend and go home and call your mom before dinner.” 

“Cool…,” Tony starts before trailing off. “Can we stay a little longer? Aunt Peggy and me were jumpin’ in puddles and it’s a lot of fun.” 

Howard sets his briefcase and jacket down on the small wooden bench next to him and takes a few steps forward, Tony’s hand in his. 

“Like this?” He asks, jumping into a puddle that causes Tony to shriek before dissolving into a fit of giggles. 

“Daddy! Your shoes! Mommy’s gonna be so mad!” 

Howard splashes into another puddle, this time reaching out and grabbing Tony before he can run away. His fingers find the ticklish spot on his son’s left side and Tony erupts into laughter again, desperately trying to wiggle free as he begs for Howard to stop. 

“Don’t tell her, okay? It’ll be our little secret.” 

“Deal,” Tony laughs through the hiccups he’s just come down with. Howard sets him back on his feet and Tony grins. “Hey Dad?” 

“Yeah, kiddo?” 

“I like jumpin’ in puddles with you,” he says right before he lands in one right in front of his father, water splashing his dress pants. 

He doesn’t yell, doesn’t get angry. Instead he laughs and chases his son through a parking lot full of puddles while Peggy watches, and when he finally picks up to carry his tired-out son to the car, he and Peggy share a look and he nods. 

 _Remember this moment the next time you get upset with him for being a kid,_ her look seems to say. 

He nods, knowing this won’t be the last time he and his son don’t get along, but hopefully, maybe, as he starts to lose his temper, he’ll remember Tony and this very moment. 

Hopefully he’ll remember the puddles.  

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> Sorry for such a long delay in posts. I've been battling a hand injury for about a month and it's made it difficult to type. I'm on the mend and hope to have new things posted soon! 
> 
> \----
> 
> Be sure to check back once (sometimes twice!) a week for more one word prompt fills about the various faces of the MCU!
> 
> Have a request for a pairing, a prompt, etc (either for the One Word Prompt Fills, or something else entirely)? Drop a comment below or send me a message via Twitter and I'll see what I can whip up for you!
> 
> \----
> 
> tweets: twitter.com/flashytonystark | @flashytonystark  
> pics: instagram.com/sarahwiththegoodtea | @sarahwiththegoodtea


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